Dream Date
by SassyJ
Summary: Stuart's "celebrity" status gets him into serious trouble, Cathy Bradford is loose and she's looking for love. Can Jo and Stevie find him before Cathy's own special brand of loving proves fatal?


He had the headache from hell. He moved slightly, trying to nudge his cheek into a cool place on the pillow, while his head pounded. He knew something was wrong, but opening his eyes seemed too hard. Memories of the previous evening swamped his mind. A lingering sense of a strange smell; a hand, unbelievably strong, had clamped a cloth over his mouth and nose. He'd struggled, but as he drew breath, the fumes had overwhelmed his senses and he'd felt himself falling.

Now he tried to swallow. His throat felt dry and sore, and he coughed with the effort, which rasped at his sore throat. He screwed his eyes shut more tightly and moved again, nudging his cheek against the soft cotton. This time there was an odd rattling sound and something moved around his neck.

Stuart opened his eyes cautiously. None of this added up. He was lying on his side in a bed in a room which was not his. He moved to sit up, wincing as the pounding in his head re-doubled, and the thing around his neck shifted. He put his hand up to work out what it was, and his fingers touched metal. Something cold slithered down his back. He groped around and found a chain. Staring at it in disbelief, he gave it a tug, which yanked on the thing around his neck. He looked wildly around the unfamiliar, dimly lit, windowless room, and he could see a kitchen area, a sofa, a stereo and television; the whole area was decorated in black and white. Near to the bed there was a hand basin with a mirror over it. He threw the covers aside and stumbled over to the basin.

His eyes took in the half-inch-wide polished-steel collar round his neck, while his brain scrambled to work out where it had come from, and the scarlet heart-shaped padlock which held the collar closed. His hands scrabbled at the collar, without any hope of removing it; the scarlet padlock swung, mocking his efforts.

He stopped struggling with the collar and picked up the chain, tracing it back to the wall. He yanked on it hard, but it was very securely anchored. _Get a grip, Stu. Think!_ He looked in the mirror, seeking inspiration. His reflection stared back at him. He looked down: he was wearing a pale blue tee shirt and soft grey shorts which he had never seen before. He'd never seen any of this before. His head was still pounding and he stumbled back to the bed to sit down. _Deep breaths. Think!!_ Confused, he put his head in his hands.

"You're awake! That's good." The voice was conversational, as though a man chained by his neck to a wall was an everyday occurrence for her, and Stuart nearly laughed out loud as he spun round to face his captor.

She was tall, slightly older than him, with long, dark-blonde hair. It was the eyes: the hard, cold, blue eyes which bored into him. Knowing eyes, the kind which would see whether he was lying. A feeling of dread washed through him. This was not going to be something he would easily walk away from, and he had a premonition of doom. Fear crawled up his spine, but he tried to take control of the situation anyway.

"Look, I'm a police officer..." he began.

"I know who you are, Stuart." She smiled and moved closer to him, put up a hand, and caressed the side of his face. "I'm Cathy... I'm going to teach you to love me."

Some instinct of self-preservation kept him rooted to the spot. His skin crawled as she stroked his face, but he sensed the danger flinching away from her would bring.

"I have a lot of rules, Stuart, but you will learn them; you're smart. If you break them, I will hurt you. It's the only way you'll learn not to break them."

He forced himself to hold it together. It was her matter-of-fact tone which unnerved him, she was talking as though chaining him up like a wild animal was the most natural thing in the world. "I'm expected at work today. I had court..."

"I know you had court, and I know there are procedures. I used to be a police officer." She smiled, and he decided that her decidedly unhinged smile was what freaked him out the most. She waved his phone at her, and he stepped forward, eager to take it from her. "Ah, ah, ah." She moved back from him. "I'm afraid not, Stuart..."

"Please..." He tried what he hoped was a conciliatory smile, tried to get control of the situation, and held out his hand for the phone. She smiled and stepped forward as though she was going to hand him the phone, and he stretched out to reach for it.

He just had time to see the collapsible baton in her hand, and barely heard the swish as it telescoped to its full length before the asp cracked down on his forearm. He howled in pain and staggered backwards to collapse on the bed.

He cradled his arm against him, bending over it. The pain was unbelievable and he moaned. She would hurt him with absolutely no compunction. His first instincts were right, but he was still in the game and even as he struggled to cope with everything that was going on, his brain raced through the possibilities. No doubt someone would be looking for him; he only hoped it was Jo. He had to get a message through to her.

"Now, Stuart, who am I sending a text to?" She crouched down in front of him and again waggled the phone. He knew better than to reach out for it this time.

"Jo Masters, she's in my phone." He tried not to seem too eager, as he sensed there was a chance he was fighting for his life. She held all the cards, and his instinct for survival kicked in.

"A girlfriend?"

"No, Jo's gay." The words were out of his mouth before he could catch them back, but then he saw the dead look in her eyes and realised instinctively he had chosen the right person. He wasn't just keeping himself alive; he was saving the life of the one true friend he trusted too.

Frantically, he wracked his brains for information, how and where this Cathy fitted in. If he could find the key to that, perhaps he could talk his way out of this.

The asp swished down again on the bed, and he jumped. He'd allowed his attention to wander, and she was speaking to him. _Stupid, Stu...that's the way to get yourself killed._

She was smiling that weird smile again. "You see, you do learn quickly." She put her hand on his knee and stroked it. "We'll be happy very soon... I promise." He forced himself to smile back, to try and play her game; his arm throbbed, and he wondered if she had done any serious damage. But he paid attention, as allowing his mind to wander would be very unhealthy for him.

"I used to watch you on that programme." Her fingers were softly tracing a strange little pattern on his left knee, and he kept still even though he longed to throw her hand off his leg. "Every time you were on... And I knew we would be together, that it was only a matter of time. I've been let down so badly in the past, I know you won't let me down."

'_Wanted'... that stupid programme. _He'd got caught up in his own celebrity, and it had nearly cost him his career... at the time the one and only thing he had in his life; now it could cost him his life... and the people he cared about, _Jo... Stevie..._friends, not just colleagues, people who cared enough about him to save him from the consequences of his own stupidity. And the warning was clear, she had hit him once, there was clearly more to come. He was helpless, totally at her mercy. _Don't set her off, Stuart._

"So, what am I saying to Jo, hunny?" Her inadvertent use of the term of endearment gave him an idea.

"Say... _"got the flu, can't make court, sorry hun." _He smiled. His nerve endings were aching with fear, but he smiled.

"Hun...?"

"That's just what we call each other... it means nothing, we're just friends."

That cold dead look was back in her eyes, and he held his breath; he couldn't afford mistakes. She studied his face, and he tried to look relaxed. She straightened up with one fluid move. She had a dancer's grace, and he had the idea she was more than capable of subduing him if she chose. But just at that moment it was more what she might decide to do to Jo.

"Okay hunny, I have to send this. I will be back later. Give me a kiss."

The tone was a little flat and matter-of-fact, and the request caught him off guard. Obediently he stepped forward, and bent his head to kiss her, as his lips brushed hers, her hand yanked hard on the chain, and the collar nearly choked him.

"Just a little reminder."

He stepped back as she let go, and sat down heavily on the bed. She walked away without a backward glance, and he waited until he heard the sound of a door being closed, then he slumped down on the bed and put his head in his hands.

~*~*~*~*~

Neil Manson put the phone down, his expression grim. DS Stuart Turner was supposed to be giving evidence in court. That Stuart hadn't turned up to do so was unforgiveable in Manson's book, as he had also failed to account for his whereabouts.

Manson got to his feet and strode out into the office. "DC Masters, have you seen DS Turner this morning?"

Jo turned round from hanging up her jacket . "No guv. Isn't he supposed to be giving evidence in court?"

"He is." Manson's expression did not bode well for Stuart's future attempts at an explanation.

Jo frowned. "Guv, Stuart wouldn't intentionally miss a court date. Perhaps he's ill?" she hazarded.

"His landline and mobile go straight to voicemail." Manson turned away.

Jo scooped up her keys. "Guv, let me go to his flat and check to see if he's there." Something was scratching away at the back of her mind..

Neil nodded. "Be quick." He headed back towards his office.

Jo turned to Stevie, still sitting at her desk, shuffling paperwork. "Coming?"

Stevie grinned. "He isn't going to be happy with us." Reaching for her jacket.

Jo looked sideways at as they were crossing the car park. "I just have this feeling."

The grin slowly left Stevie's face. "That something's happened to him,"she finished.

~*~*~*~*~

It was a short drive to Stuart's smart, upmarket flat, a drive accomplished mostly in silence. Each woman thinking her own private thoughts about where their sergeant had got to.

"That's his car." Jo remarked as she pulled into a visitors' space next to the big silver Alfa. "So he should be here."

"Unless he walked?" Stevie sounded very much like she was trying to convince herself.

"Come on. When did you ever know Stuart to walk to work?" Jo walked over to the entrance door to the block where Stuart lived. She pressed the buzzer for his flat. "Mr Supercool do anything as uncool as walking?" She pressed the buzzer again.

Stevie looked around her: very nice neighbourhood, flashy newbuilds. Stu had really pushed the boat out when he'd bought his place, and it wasn't one of those key worker deals either. He'd saved a long time and paid a lot of money for the place. As she looked down at the neat flower bed by the front door, something shiny caught her eye and she bent down, brushing the flowers out of the way. _Keys_. She pulled a biro out of her pocket and snagged the keys through the loop. Even as she picked them up, she could see they were Alfa keys...Stuart's car keys. Her face went white.

"Jo." Stevie said quietly, as Jo's finger pushed Stuart's buzzer in for the third time. Jo looked round.

"Where did you find them?" Jo's voice was not quite steady. But that was acceptable under the circumstances, as Stevie wasn't feeling quite steady herself.

"Down there." Stevie looked up and pointed with the biro. "We need the tape from that."

Jo looked round at the camera she hadn't noticed until now. "We do." She reached into her pocket and pulled out her mobile.

~*~*~*~*~

Jo looked at the screen again. The block of flats might have been expensive and upmarket, but the security cameras were a very poor joke. Cheap tape, reused again and again. Stevie had acquired the tapes as soon as they'd had the go ahead from Manson. Back at the station, Jo and Stevie forwarded through the tape until they caught Stuart at the front door of his block. _He raises his hand to punch in the entry code, his keys still in his hand, and...._ Jo hit the pause button, but it didn't make the picture any clearer. A figure dressed entirely in dark clothing stepped from somewhere to Stuart's left, the two figures merged, a hand clamped something white over Stuart's mouth and nose, he tried to pull away, he struggled for a few seconds, then went limp. The dark figure shoved something in the pocket of the long dark coat, bent down over Stuart's unconscious body, and dragged him away.

"When was that?" Manson's voice behind her almost made her jump, so quiet was his arrival.

Jo looked at the fuzzy time code. "9.43 last night, Guv."

Her mobile buzzed in her pocket. Jo fished it out. Looked at the message. Slowly, she turned to Neil, her hand shaking, and handed him the mobile.

_Got the flu, can't make court, sorry hun._ Neil read the message in silence.


End file.
